


Scrapbook

by sinousine



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 02:15:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 1,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2370716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinousine/pseuds/sinousine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some leftovers for a pair that I'm still fond of. Kiku/Yao and Kiku/Chun Yan. Only the first chapter contains sex, sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Warmth

**Author's Note:**

> These are various fragments I posted to Tumblr in 2012.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kiku/Yao, sex.

They lay there for what seemed a very long time - Kiku still inside, Yao’s chest rising and falling with his breathing, belly slick with come. His arms and legs hung limp at his sides. His hair was coated in sweat and his eyes were half-lidded, dreamy. Kiku was so close that he could discern the hairs of Yao’s eyelashes the wetness pooled at the corner of each eye - he was weeping, softly. With one hand he reached to stroke Yao’s cheek, to be met by another hand on his.

「あいしてます。。。」Kiku whispered. With his other hand he traced a line from Yao’s chest to his navel, coating one finger in Yao’s come.

"Wasn’t that good? Yes? See…"

"Please lick it up."

With his thumb on Yao’s lower lip, he gently pried the other’s mouth open. Obediently, Yao began to lap at Kiku’s cum-coated fingers. The corners of his mouth turned up in apparent disgust.

"Bitter…"

"Hm?" Kiku replied, tasting it himself. "It’s not too bad."

"I can do it as many times as you want," Kiku replied, leaning forward to kiss the other on the lips, reminding Yao that they were still joined together. "Would you like that?" he said, wiping the trail of sticky stuff with the the bedsheets.

"Yes…" Yao’s voice was so soft that it seemed Kiku’s heart would melt.


	2. The Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yao gets a gift in the mail.

Yao set the package down on his dining table. He’d found it on his doorstep earlier that day.

"生日快乐 - Happy Birthday!“ it read in cursive print. The handwriting was familiar, as was the plain brown wrapping paper, folded with a fibrous string.

He realized it was that time in October again, not that he really had a birthday or felt particularly patriotic about this date. But a gift was always good.

He opened it hastily with a pocket knife, ripping the plain brown wrapping and the string holding it together. From the start Yao knew that it held something soft inside, folded neatly into a square…

Yao unfolded it to its full length. The gift, from Kiku, was a frilly thing. A white wedding dress, with red pink flowers sewn onto it.

"Aiyah…" Yao proclaimed. This had to be a mistake!

He noticed a card had been included with the dress.

"Dear Yao-san, wouldn’t you say this is a fine proposal? I would love to see you wear this."

Below that was a drawing of the two of them, getting married! The nerve!

But Yao didn’t have the heart to throw it out. He folded the dress back up and stuck the card between two antique books on his shelf. Perhaps he could give the dress to a struggling city girl who’d love something like it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by this comic: http://www.pixiv.net/member_illust.php?mode=medium&illust_id=22292865


	3. Today's Special

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chat dialogue.

  * **China:** Japaaaan! I made this bento for you~ It's filled with love~ I put it in a /manly/ bento box.
  * **Japan:** Thank you China-san. /eyes it cautiously, then begins eating/ This is delicious. What's in it?
  * **China:** It's a little piece of myself. I made it with my intestines (◡‿◡✿)
  * **Japan:** /spits it out in horror/
  * **China:** Waaaaaah, why don't you love me? I hate you! Waaaah
  * /pounds fists against Japan's chest/
  * END




	4. Pond ripples

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some alcohol involved.

They clasped hands and fell drowned into each others eyes like one drowns in a pool of sake over which the cliched cherry blossoms drop their leaves like kamikaze pilots because honestly you wouldn’t be able to float very easily in a pool of sake and you’d get drunk too and lose your motor coordination.

Some mandarin ducks were lapping at the bank of the biggest of these pools, getting drunk with the drunkenness of ducks drinking alcohol. The moon, round and full, was reflected in the rippling water like your first girlfriend, who turned into the moon, watching the two of you lay in a stupor because you two drowned in a pool of sake.

Well the kiss, the kiss reeked of alcohol as well. But it was amazing, bursting into flower like fireworks shaped like flowers.

The rabbit on the moon was earless because his mother, over-attentive with her teeth, had chewed its ears off when it was born.


	5. and yet I think my love as rare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "as any she belied with false compare". Kiku thinks about Chun Yan.

pale, thin beauties

who make the moon and flowers weep for shame

that make the birds fall

fish forget to swim

look now: ducking under an umbrella lest the sun tan her pretty skin - ah. 

the woodcutter has stolen the goddess’s clothes - here she waddles.

wasn’t Yang Guifei quite the portly woman? my mistress is fond of fine cuisine, little dogs, pulling me by the ears 

takes chocolate gladly, only to say “too sweet”

the other week she dyed her hair blonde - no I think black suits her more

the same flat black of her eyes -

But I’ll paint them honey-brown to flatter her

her pronunciation is still very strange after all these centuries.

sometimes she speaks like a seagull.

wearing makeup - white powder is out of fashion,

but when she kisses teacups it leaves a red stain - powdered fish scales.

i only wish she’d quit smoking -

makes her breath smell absolutely awful -

and she  _spits on the street_ - 

and there’s all the garlic she eats -

but I’m not one to talk.


	6. Postcards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some moments spent between Mr. Honda and Chun Yan. Some swearing involved, as well as mutable timelines. Inspired by my time spent in China in 2012 in Xiamen and Changsha.

She sits atop the marker stone - in grandiose letters the name of this place.

The sun behind her, makes the black of her two braids dull gold, the dried grass beyond like swaying feathers. Garbage strewn across the field - an abandoned water tank, cracked and dirty, cucumber vines and sunflower stalks. Skyscrapers like ugly concrete boxes rise against the smoky sky, festooned with the spindly bodies of red cranes.

She blinks, twiddling the sheath of grass between her fingers. He leans against the stone, she puts her legs on his shoulders - her sandals have a daisy design on them, her toes covered in a film of dried mud.

He realizes, he realizes that the woman he loved has been dead for more than two centuries now. This person is someone different.

 

* * *

**The mountain park**

The arch of the banyan a gate - she leads him through. up the stone steps, through that swath of green - past a young couple, past a little playground and aunties wearing sun-visors, past a sleeping cat. Taro leaves give way to bushes and ferns.

The noon sun is smothering, the eucalyptus trees tall and sparse. Their shadows are blue against the orange sun. Her pace quick - never looking backwards.

By the time they reach the gazebo, he is panting.

"I thought I was the old grandma! We’re not even at the top." she teases, leaning towards him. He is slouching back in his seat.

 _The view could hardly be called scenic_ , he thinks to himself - in time, all cities seemed the same monotonous, cluttered arrangement of white and grey. And this was not the first -

"Ah, I feel so old. My bones are aching…"

In that moment he felt fists pounding on his back - a massage.

She laughed.

"You can’t die of old age. I won’t let you leave me alone."

She peers over his shoulder, nose against the line of stubble at the nape of his neck. She can’t spot a grey hair anywhere - but an old man could dye to save his public appearance.

A fresh breeze blows - the scene is peaceful, the only company the beds and the droning of cicadas.

"Let’s go." he says.

 

* * *

**Indigestion**

She waits outside the public toilet, a puddle of water between her and the entrance, a pungent smell beneath her nose. Someone is hosing down the floor.

"Your country has such a refined food culture, but why must it give me diarrhea?" he asks later. The stall owner had been pushy - regional specialty! Two for five! 

"Because your stomach is weak and not adapted to the Chinese environment! Drink more drainage oil!" she replied, on the verge of hysterical laughter.

She slapped her hands on her thighs.

 

* * *

**Patriotic Movie**

Sometimes, they’d watch a movie -

One of those war movies

A dreary sort of movie -

He’d turn his head away in the dark theatre just when she was on the verge of tears because Heavens they really -

and she clenched his hand - hard.

Leaves the theatre feeling numb - unable to speak except for a few, broken sentences where she’s a showerhead that has been left on, overflowing into the next room. He overhears a man on the street, moved to anger, “I want to kill all of those…”

In the next hour she seems to have forgotten what the subject was - thumbing through fashion magazines and jumping excitedly.

 

* * *

**Photo**

It had snowed the night before. The sky was blanket-grey, the landscape silent, the snow covering the village rooftops.

Slowly, they ascended the ridge, hand-in-hand. Save for the moaning of wind the only sound was the crunch of footsteps on snow.

From the top of the ridge they could see farmland and telephone poles stretching off into the distance and the gentle rise of hills. People the size of insects were scurrying about.

Along the road were the skeletons of trees, standing lace-like. But the little giant behind them defiantly wore its glossy garland of leaves. Chun Yan tightened the scarf around her neck. A puff of steam emerged from her mouth.

Kiku stood beside her, triumphantly standing on the hilltop. The two of them were smiling.

A third person, unseen in the photo, clicked the shutter and the moment was frozen in time.

 

* * *

**River**

Sometimes she’d walk along the plaza and pretend that the two of them were married.

By nightfall, the water was an inky black, painted by the lights on the other side of the river. There were people everywhere. A long-tailed kite rose from the concrete of the plaza in the purple sky.

It was raining as she walked along the edge of the railing. Her dress and her hair were soaked through. Still she stared up at the sky. The haze in the air gave the city a misty glow.

She imagined that he’d emerge from the throng. He’d ask why she was out in this rain. He’d take off his coat, or offer to hold an umbrella so that the raindrops would not touch her head. Take her hand and lead her home.

But he did not.

The next day, she’d come back to the same spot and see the trash strewn on the river bank. The water was muddy and through the smog all she could see was rows and rows of ugly grey concrete buildings.

-

**Lament (vision from the future)**

He kneels at her bedside, hoping she’ll stir. At the front of her bed is a machine that breathes for her and an IV drip needled into her hand. Her left side is bandaged - under the covers she could be missing an arm, a leg. Her eyes are covered in gauze so that he cannot tell if they are flitting about in sleep.

 _Please, he begs_. He takes her hand in his, hoping that her fingers would curl into a fist. In the chair beside his is is a folded uniform, like the one she’d worn when they had first met. 

Somewhere in the distance, the bombers come to life, ascending with a humming noise. The sky is dark with smoke as they drop their heavy load, and explosions rock the city. A heavy rain falls.


End file.
